


Fainéant

by FroaderickFronkensteen



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Asgard, Awesome Frigga, Drama, Family Drama, Frigga Feels, Gen, Jötunn Loki, Loki Feels, Loki Needs a Hug, Manipulative Loki, Odin's A+ Parenting, Parent Frigga, Post-Thor: The Dark World, Thor: The Dark World Spoilers, it ends in tears
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-15
Updated: 2014-04-15
Packaged: 2018-01-19 13:03:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1470826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FroaderickFronkensteen/pseuds/FroaderickFronkensteen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the events of Thor: The Dark World Loki uses his shapeshifting abilities to deceive the inhabitants of Asgard while plotting the realm's destruction.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Why is a Raven Like a Writing Desk?

**Author's Note:**

> I started writing this right after seeing the movie when it came out. Since then I've watched it again and discovered Thor actually spends two days in Asgard before returning to Jane. I would appreciate it if you could ignore this bit of information and pretend Thor's return to Midgard is much more immediate. Thank you.

Munin locked his black little eyes on the suspicious hunched figure before him. On the short list of targets Loki could not sneak up on Odin’s ravens where tied for first place. “Hello old friend” Loki hissed, ‘Judging from our numerous past skirmishes you will not be making this easy on me. I have a tasty morsel of meat in my pocket, but the likelihood of –”

The bird flung itself at Loki’s forehead sending the god in a momentary state of disorientation. It then landed on the golden plate on Loki’s right shoulder. Loki’s left hand shot for it but the bird moved out the way just in time, leading Loki’s fist right into the plate. The God of Mischief let out an undignified yelp, which the raven mimicked before taking flight. But Loki was quick with a spell, encasing the unfortunate raven in ice midflight.

Loki caught the ice cubed bird with both hands and laughed. “I’ve learned a few techniques since our last battle. Did you know I was a frost giant? Though I would not be so surprised. The allfather was quite liberal with that information with everyone except for me.”

A ruffle of feathers behind him told Loki he was not alone in the hallway. He looked up to see the raven’s companion Hugin eyeing him from a light fixture. It craned its neck and made a noise that sounded eerily like ‘Loki’.

“Ah, you save me the trouble of finding you. It appears you remember me as well. But how well?” he extended an arm to the raven, “Tell me, am I friend or foe?” Hugin ignored the arm and secured its talons into Loki’s left shoulder. Loki eyed the bird suspiciously and waited for the bird to pluck his eyes out. He took several minutes of blinking and head tilting as sufficient signs of cooperation. A wry, but relieved smile appeared on his face as he took out a chunk of meat from his pocket and fed the raven. “Very good, you’ll get more when I’m through with you two.”

With both ravens in his possession he set off to his destination, a minuscule room hidden behind a tapestry in Frigga’s private quarters. There were a few of these rooms in the castle intended to hide members of the royal family in case of crisis, each connected by secret passages hidden in the walls. The one Loki made his way to now did not connect to these other rooms, but Odin did not know the location of this room. It was intended solely for the Queen and her children should some dark powers turn the king against them. 

The room itself was a small rectangular shaped space with no windows. A wave of his hand activated several rather antiquated Tiffany style lamps, imported on Frigga’s request from Midgard, illuminating the room. The furnishings consisted of an upholstered armchair, a writing desk and chair, and a small table to hold up a golden birdcage. 

He locked Munin in the cage, thawing him out with a snap of fingers, but let Hugin roam freely around the room. It was almost as he remembered it, save for a few minor differences. All personal belongings were removed, though he could not remember what the items had been. The armchair was at an odd angle, to which Loki righted. A vase of assorted wilted flowers placed on the desk told assured him the room had and would remain undisturbed. In his memory the room was filled with small stacks of books, but he did not see a single one here now. Loki wondered if those books where now sitting in his cell.

He, however, was not in his cell. He was at this moment sitting in the chair, presumed dead, and very much free to do whatever he liked. Taking on the guise of Odin had been risky, both in the sake of his still healing wound and potential discovery.  The Allfather walked into the throne room a hair of a second after Thor had left. A quick illusion turned Loki into a concerned guard returning the King’s missing staff to the original owner; a stupid but necessary move on Loki’s part.

Loki was now free to orchestrate his plan. There was just one simple yet fatal flaw, and that flaw was that he had no plan to exact. He, the God of Lies and Mischief, the Talented Liar, The Sly One with a silver tongue stared at the high ceiling with a wide empty mind. He tried to fiddle with what he had in his arsenal. Thor is preoccupied, Odin thought him dead, and the capture of the ravens prevented him from discovering otherwise. But most importantly Frigga was not an obstacle.

While he was imprisoned schemes came in abundance but Frigga’s presence prevented any action. Odin, Thor, and his former friends he could plow through without blinking, but to be on the offensive against his foster mother was a far different matter. Shouting threats and insults were miniscule offenses, but to deal a lethal blow was an act he doubt he could accomplish.

Loki sighed. The world at his fingertips to burn and nothing comes to mind. Hugin hopped into the arm of the chair and let out another ‘Loki’. Loki tried to ignore the bird but it just nipped at his fingers and croaked his name again.

“I have no more to give, little raven. You have an appetite which rivals Valstagg’s. But fear not, you have permission to devour my corpse as it appears I am destined to rot in this room. Feel free to leave the brain to deer old Munin as its lack of proficiency is what seals my fate.”

 At the sound if its name Munin trashed about in the cage alternating croaks of ‘Loki’ and ‘Corpse’. “If you continue to mock I will keep you locked in that cage much longer than originally intended. I can assure you being confined for a long period of time is quite disagreeable.”

“LOKI. CORPSE. LOKI. ODIN. CORPSE. LOKI. LOKI. CORPSE. ODIN. CORPSE. CORPSE. CORPSE!”

The words themselves were bad enough, but the eerie whine in which they were enunciated grated on Loki. “Will you shut up,” he hissed with viciousness.

Munin disregarded the fuming god, deciding instead to dance about the cage croaking a chorus of ‘COOORRRRPSEEE! ODIN COOORRPPSSE!’

“IF YOU DO NOT SHUT UP I WILL FEED YOUR CORPSE TO ODIN!  YOU WILL …” Loki paused, “I am arguing with a bird. Loki, you are yelling at a bloody bird. Odin’s bloody bird no less!”

In one sleek movement Loki rose from the chair, silently padded to the cage, waited a moment, and then slammed both hands on either side of the cage. The raven shot to the back of the cage in sheer panic.  A whine came from the thin metal as Loki crushed the bars under his fingers.

Being this close to the cage brought back a memory from his youth.

 

-

 

“Why did you capture father’s ravens?” he had asked his mother.

“We need them for today’s lesson,” she whispered in his ear.

He looked at her quizzically. “What are we to do with them? Are we are to use them as targets? Father would not take kindly to me killing them.”

“No, my son,” Frigga laughed. “They are to look at, to examine. Today’s lesson is in deception by means of transformation. But you must be perfect in your execution as I suspect your father would favor his ravens dead than I teach you this skill.” Young Loki’s eyes widened, but Frigga gave him a wink. “It will be one of our many little secrets.”

“But what if he sees through my illusion, mother?” An enraged image of Odin came to mind.

“I see no reason to punish you for not mastering a skill he does not want you to know.”

 

-

 

Loki came out of the memory with a smile. Of course she knew he’d master the skill. He had mastered the skill every day of his life without knowing it.

Munin resumed its mantra of ‘Loki-Corpse-Odin’ while Loki wove threads in his mind. Odin never did catch onto the childish prank of his youth. A wicked smile appeared on Loki’s thin lips, an amused hum escaping his throat.

“Why rush to destroy Asgard? It isn’t going anywhere. And coincidentally neither are you, my dear bird.” Munin made a string of incoherent screeches of displeasure. “Oh, don’t be so cross. You know it’s your own damn fault.

 

-

 

Odin was not happy with Heimdall, and as usual Loki was to blame. He watched the conversation perched on Odin’s shoulder, opposite to Hugin on the other.

The Gatekeeper looked up at Odin on the throne. “My king, I merely did what was my duty,”

“Oh? And it is your duty to undermine my command?”

“That was not my intention, Allfather. Thor claimed to have your blessing to leave. ”

“I GAVE no such blessing!” Odin’s voice boomed in Loki’s ear.

Heimdall spoke his response slowly piecing together what he believed was the truth. “Then you are correct in your accusation, my liege.”

“My accusations are always correct, dear Heimdall. You’ve committed treason on behalf of my son far too many times this day. Your importance to the survival of Asgard is the only reason you still stand here before me. But hear me, Heimdall, you continue to commit acts of treason your body will not have a head to hold up that helmet of yours.”

“Yes, my king.” Heimdall turned to leave before Odin called him back, giving him new duties. He was not set his eyes on the perimeters of Asgard, and nowhere else. Loki did not know how to take this ruling, weighing it heavily in his mind before deciding he benefited from it.

“Now, busy yourself with your duties and be gone from my sight until I express my need of you,” he dismissed the Gatekeeper coldly.

The Allfather slipped into thought. He sat gracelessly in silence for a long time, until Loki grew bored and ruffled his wings a little too closely to Odin’s cheek. Waking up from his stupor he addressed his ravens in a crackled voice.

“Munin, you will oversee Asgard and report, as is your usual. Hugin, you travel to the dungeons and retrieve the Lady Sif, Volstagg, and Fandral, and be quick about it.” Hugin set off right away. Loki rose high in the air, making huge circling swoops in the air, and promptly disregarded Odin’s commands as soon as he was out of sight, opting instead to tuck himself away in a corner.

It occurred to him that he and Odin where alone. All he had to do was swoop in and stab him in the back, ending his life forever. But to end such a mighty being while he sat alone and sulking on his throne seemed undignified. There would be no glory. Besides, he would never know what the king wanted with his former friends if he was silenced.

When Hugin brought them in they all looked worn and swollen from battle. To Loki’s shock Sif seemed the least weakened as she would have gotten the most action in Thor’s plan to escape. It was she who broke the ice, “Allfather…“

“Enough, Sif. I’ve no patience to deal with trifle matters nor do I intend to punish those acting on orders from my son. Your task is to retrieve Thor from Midgard. Tell him…” Odin paused, mulling an idea over in his mind. “Tell him I only wish to talk. And that he is free to return to Jane Foster afterward if he so wishes.”

Fandral began thanking Odin for his pardoning of their treason, but Loki was not interested. Bringing Thor back would be problematic. His brother would learn Odin did not give him leave and eventually they would start to question Loki’s death.

He dove behind a pillar and transformed into Thor. Transitioning from the small frame of a bird to a human shaped creature is a difficult maneuver on its own. Transitioning from a small frame of a bird to a human shaped creature not only two inches taller but several pounds heavier than your original form is devastating. Doing all that in one motion while landing is a nightmare. If anyone where to witness his first few steps they would assume the God of Thunder had one too many horns of mead in his system. He nearly missed the group while he tried to right himself in this larger form.

“My friends, where are we off to?” he called after them warmly. “Not fighting another battle I hope.” The voice from his throat was familiar and bittersweet to his memories.

“We were told to bring you back,” Volstagg replied. Fandral nodded in agreement. Sif eyed him suspiciously.

_Well you don’t need to anymore, now do you? Because you think I’m standing in front of you at this very moment._ Loki translated this as: “You need not, for I am here,” adding a wide smile and a signature chuckle. He then winked at Sif, winning over her suspicion. _Simpletons_ , Loki thought, I _shall treat you as such to keep you busy and out of my hair._ “But if it is work you care to accomplish may I suggest assisting Asgard in recovering from the invasion.” Loki looked up at Odin, “…if that is alright with you, father.”

“A wise decision.” _Yes, I know, I thought of it_. _And instead of focusing on such things you decide to send four of your greatest warriors out of Asgard to drag that witless oaf back here._ “I will give you specific tasks to complete momentarily. But first I must speak with my son alone.”

Odin descended the throne. Father and son walked in silence through the halls with seemingly no point of destination. Odin’s new contemplative nature was beginning to bore Loki. After a long while Odin spoke, “Asgard is in ruin and you decide to wonder back to Midgard? I take it Miss Foster is to blame.” The words, though blunt were softly spoken; an acceptance, not malicious accusation.

Loki matched the tone, “I know not when we would meet again. With the frequency death has come to us I could not leave Jane without explanation. My place is here, father. Asgard is in need of my talents. You could not do it alone.”

“Could I not?”

“Mother …” the word caught in his throat. He could not think of whatever he wanted to say.

Odin finished the thought for him, “…would not wish for me to do it alone.”

The two gods stood in silence.  How jovial and warm the Allfather was.  He knew Odin’s warmth would not be so freely given were he in his natural form. Loki swallowed hard to stifle emotions and made an attempt to change subjects.

Odin beat him to the punch. “You should retire for the evening”

“But father, do you not want to know what became of Malekith?”  He tried to remember what Thor told him earlier. The Dark Elves in London? Malekith presumed dead in Svartalfheim? Something about an In Turn named Ian?

“I’ve heard a version from Heimdall. Now is not the time for telling tales of battle.”

“If that is your wish,” _then it saves me the effort of coming up with something on the spot_. He had a feeling his brother added several embellishments to the tale such as Mjolnir traveling through realms. He did not think that was possible.

“We’ve lost much in but a few hours. You’ve done your part, and require rest. Your body must mend and your soul must grieve. Asgard will still be here in the morning.”

Loki thanked him and went in the direction of Thor’s chambers, and then created a portal which took him to Frigga’s hidden room. Munin shouted ‘CORPSE’ upon his arrival and Loki returned the greeting by just missing it with a throwing dagger. The bird got the message and stayed quiet for the remainder of the night.

Odin was right; Asgard would be there in the morning. Asgard would be there waiting for him to burn whenever he wished. He saw no need to rush. 


	2. So You Wanna Be a Hero?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki takes on the appearance of his absent brother. Unfortunately Odin has unfortunate plans for the God of Thunder.

Mornings in Asgard were quiet and simple. A lifetime ago Loki would wake earlier than most to take a stroll through the serene corridors. This time offered room for contemplation and meditation with minimal intrusion. A goodnight’s rest and a refreshed mind could bring resolutions to days past.

But this morning brought him an unrested body riddled with aches and crooks from sleeping on the cold floor. An unappreciated wakeup squawk from the hostage raven ended what little sleep he managed to steal, catching his mind off guard rendering it all but useless.  He hoped slipping into past habits could right his mind in time for the kitchens to serve breakfast.

 

-

 

The faint smell of smoke still hung in the air in the streets of Asgard.  Scents of burnt chemicals, plastics, and metal were familiar to a battle hardened warrior such as Loki, but those odors with undertones of his own soil were horrifically alien. The streets where clear of the blood and gore that surely had been there a day before. The dead safely whisked away. He wondered how many souls accompanied Frigga to the afterlife.

“You look troubled, my lord,” a woman called from the tavern door. “Forgive me, but we are not so used to seeing our beloved Odinson in anything but a smile.”

He wanted to tear into her. _My mother is dead. My father is not my father and he hates me. I’ve lost three kingdoms, one of which I did not even know was mine. My real father is dead by my hand to appease the one that was not.  I am a monster by birth and you expect me to dance about and be happy for your amusement!_   This is what Loki would have said, and at a high volume, spitting words down on the unfortunate woman. But Loki kept quiet and let Thor speak warmly, “Asgard is troubled, so I am troubled.”

The woman spoke of the dead in clichéd words of comfort. Every word out of her mouth had been heard a thousand times by billions of other beings. _You do not really care,_ Loki thought, _you are merely speaking to ease your own mind. This is what you think you should say because it has been said to you. It lulls you into thinking I view you as an adequate person because you pretend to care for me. Your words will not bring anyone back, nor will they undo actions. ‘You might want to take the stairs to the left.’_

“What?” The woman had asked a question. “I’m sorry; could you repeat what you’ve just said? My mind was elsewhere.”

“Would you care to break your fast with us this morning?”

“The tavern is open this early?”

“The tavern is not, but my table is open.”

Did this woman seriously just ask the successor of the throne to dine with such common filth? Back in the castle kitchens he could have anything he wished, from artisan breads, exotic fruits, and even imported delicacies such as the Midgardian breakfast cereal with the little multicolored marshmallows he enjoyed so much. Loki was simply revolted, Thor graciously accepted her offer.

The family consisted of the mother and father and two young children. The foods were eggs and cooked meats. The décor was as not flashy, as expected, but clean and inviting. _There are harsher Hels in this world_ , thought Loki. The longer he stayed the more he enjoyed himself. He shared old stories of conquests and battles, which were all true, although told from a different perspective. He even warmed to the food, which was expertly prepared and quite good though it sat heavy in his stomach. On his third helping he discovered the children took turns flapping his red cape to mimic wind. He took it off and told them about the Midgardian profession of a Matador, encouraging them to run into it. A worried look from the mother ceased this play, but not before doing it twice more each child. To repair his image he helped her with the washing, restoring the good mood in the house.

He stayed until the sight of Hugin told him he was wanted. He left, spewing promises to return, but not before receiving a kiss of the cheek. He remembered Frigga doing much the same thing to both her sons. It reminded him of who he really was and what he was really doing here. He wondered if they would offer the same hospitality once he donned a green cape.

 

-

 

The raven lead him to the king’s private dining quarters. Odin sat at his table, his half-finished breakfast disregarded on a plate in front of him, while the Lady Sif stood dutifully on the other side. Upon his arrival he walked in on a conversation between Odin and Sif.

“…the Infinity Stone?” Loki did not catch the first half of Odin’s question. He mimicked Sif’s stature and waited for her response, hoping to catch a clue.

“It’s been delivered, my Lord,” Sif answered.

“And what of the other tasks I’ve assigned you?” _Other tasks? What other tasks are you having her do?_

“They shall be completed by the day’s end.”  She made eye contact with Loki. There was distrust in her eye again.

Loki turned his eyes to Odin, “What is this I hear about an Infinity Stone? He have two here in Asgard, if I am not mistaken.” _I am not mistaken, and it is very much a problem if that information gets out. Especially since our defenses are nearly nonexistent right now. One could easily sneak in and…_

“Never you mind. How did you sleep?”

“Like the dead, father,” said Loki with a proud smile. An imperfectly timed yawn tried escaping him, but he turned it into a question. “What tasks do you have for me to complete this day?”

“I have just one very important task for you today.” From the way Odin looked at him Loki thought he might have accidently shifted back into his own skin. It was sly and vindictive; a look, though familiar, was not often worn by the Allfather.

Much to his relief the voice which came from his throat was still that of his brother’s. “I shall complete it to the best of my abilities, father. What is it?”

“As you must recall you recently committed acts of treason by escaping with two prisoners in an enemy ship. An enemy ship in which you did not control very well.”

_No he did not._ “I admit not.”

“I trust you are aware of the immense physical damage your actions resulted in.”

_Far more than there would be if that buffoon let me pilot it._ “I assure you it was not done purposely.”

“It appears a statue of my father Bor seems to be among the list of casualties.” 

_You’ve just decapitated your grandfather_. “It is truly unfortunate…”

“Broken into pieces it is, some large, others small. It may take the better part of a day to mend them together. You will assist in repairing said statue, along with a group of master craftsmen, of which I’ve personally selected.” Odin then explained someone would come to collect him, giving a specific time and location. 

 “Would it not be better to commission these craftsmen to sculpt new statues?”

“Yes, of course. But I chose not to do that.”

“I do not understand.” _Yes, please great one, tell me why you believe yours is a better idea._

“You have defied my commands quite publically. Regardless of how erroneous they may have been they were still orders from your king. The people of Asgard would not take kindly to a king that does not punish his son’s wrongdoings, don’t you agree?”

“You wish to humiliate me?”

“Consider it a tribute toy your fallen brother.”

For once he and Odin were on the same page, but Loki was not too keen on serving Thor’s sentence for him. He had a full blown argument to counter those words, but not one that Thor would give. His mind raced to find something more suitable for his brother’s tongue.

This pause gave Sif a chance to speak. “My Lord?” He’d forgotten she was there, and from the look on Odin’s face, he did too. _Oh Sif, have you taken over my role of changing subjects to diffuse feuds between father and son?_ “May I ask what is to be done with the body?”

_Body, what body?_ He looked to Odin to see a similar quizzical expression.

“Loki’s body, my lord,” Sif clarified. _Oh right, my body._

_“_ What do you expect me to do with it, Sif?”

_“_ If there are no plans we would like to perform a small service for him, my lord.”

Loki was shocked and questioned her without thinking. “Why?” he spat. “You never even cared for…” he paused. “…him.”   

“True, I disliked him greatly” she began, “but that does not mean I do not recognize his importance. He was a fierce warrior and I doubt any of us would be here were it not for his quick thinking. We once considered him a friend, and I do not forget that.”

“Such fond words you have for your enemy, Sif.” _How nice of you to finally recognize my importance. Such a shame you could not admit it when I walked amongst you._

“I find it strange such words do not flow from your mouth, Thor.”

“Enough!” Odin stood, and began to take his leave. “I’ll allow you to organize a small ceremony, Sif, if that is what you wish. I however will not be in attendance. I have mourned him once already, who is to say we will not do so a third or fourth.”

The heavy door closed behind him, leaving Sif and who she thought was Thor alone in the room. She asked if he wanted any involvement in the service, Loki declined. She then asked if he planned to attend, to which Loki answered negatively as well.

“Thor, you are allowed to feel sorrow over the loss of someone you considered your brother. Are you so sure you will not come?”

As curious as Loki was he thought it bad luck to attend one’s own funeral. “There are many misdeeds in which I need to forgive him for before I can feel the gravity of his passing. I am not quite ready to say goodbye.”

She seemed satisfied with this answer, giving a little nod of understanding.

 

-

 

Loki sighed as he ascended his umpteenth flight of stairs. No doubt Odin choose his retrieval destination solely on how far and difficult it was to travel. A quarter of the way in he settled into his more familiar form, crunching little twigs and leaves under his own boots.

His mind wandered to the Infinity Stones. He knew there were two on Asgard, The Tesseract and the Aether, which meant there were four more to collect before he could use them in the Infinity Gauntlet, which was also conveniently sitting in Odin’s vault. Plots filled with dastardly deeds were brainstormed, but he was unsure of the end result. Even if he managed to find out where the others were he still had to leave Asgard to collect them. It opened him up for discovery by one of the many allies of Thanos.

A shudder went through him at the thought of Thanos. _What a terrible person to get involved with. Why did I do it in the first place?_  He made a mental note to run him and his allies into the ground when he controlled the throne, which brought him back to his original problem.

“I am in need of an idiot to bounce ideas off of.” Loki’s footsteps’ doubled in sound, first stepping in time then finding their own heavier rhythm. The Thunder God to his right beamed at him. “And what have you to say?”

“Put the stones to the back of your mind. Something is not right here and you are ignoring it.”

“Asgard is in ruin, Thor. Perhaps I’ve made you a little too much of an idiot.”

“You’re using your magic carelessly. Are you not concerned about someone seeing you?”

“Ah, yes. You are right.” He turned to the air to his left. “Excuse me, kind imaginary sir, would you do us a favor and not tell dear old Odin you’ve seen me here?” He paused for a moment then turned back to the illusion to his right. “Can you believe this invalid? He dares he blackmail a ‘son of Odin’. I’ll tell you what,” turning back to his left, “how about I let you live and call it even? Yes? Lovely! Good news, brother! The pretend man has agreed not to…”

Aside from Loki and his illusion there were no guards. There were no guards patrolling the halls yesterday, allowing him to capture the ravens. He couldn’t remember seeing any on his morning stroll either. Heimdall may be forced be on the lookout for nefarious forces coming in, but he could do little for the ones already here. _I’ll have to make a point of letting Odin know of this._

 “Tell me brother,” the illusion began, “why do you wish to aid Asgard in its recovery when it is your goal to break it down and rule it?”

“It is honorable to take down a fully healed, strong kingdom.  It sends a message to the others who would try to conquer us. And as you well know I am not in peak condition. My wound still heals.”

“But you waste your energy on reckless magic. Instead of parading yourself in my skin you could be resting and ready to conquer in a day’s time.”

“Talk to me about something else, I am bored with this subject.”

Loki had arrived at his destination, one of the old training grounds not in use anymore. Unlike the one near the castle doors this one was surrounded with trees and shrubbery, reminding Loki more of an abandoned garden than anything else. The cobble stone road gave way to dirt road, which was distinguishable from the dirt ground around it by small, ankle height stones to mark it. Loki stood in the center with folded arms, trailing eyes around the perimeter to make sure he was indeed alone.

“Do you remember this place, brother?” Thor asked, while sitting down on a large stone boulder. Loki wondered if it was the same boulder Thor used to hurl at him all those years ago. “Shall I tell you a story from our youth?”

“Do you remember that you are my illusion?” He was beginning to forget himself.

“Would you like me not to tell you?”

“No, please go on. This is where…”

 “…you won your first victory against me. We were sparing and I chided you on taking lessons from mother rather than father. That she should teach you how to sew, and asked if you meant to attend court instead fight in battles. Even father joined in by saying you would look exquisite in a gown.”

“Well, he wasn’t wrong about that,” Loki mused.

“And you flew into such a rage, wielding your dagger like a fiend. I fought to the best of my abilities but father’s battle techniques proved far too sluggish and thoughtless when paired against mother’s swift and precise movements. Your relentless assault ended when you disemboweled me right in front of father.”

“You both made the same horrified expressions.” Loki laughed.” You also both failed to notice the dagger in my hand was really a simple twig.”

“You are quite clever, brother.”

“Yes, I know.”

“Father did not think so. He...”

“…threw me into the dungeon.”  Thor stopped talking, his jaw set, and eyes dropped the ground. The whole expression was very unlike Thor.

Then it giggled and slipped into a posture more suited for Thor. “Mother set you free, though. Remember? But not before tearing into father for treating a child with such disregard. Odin may be the king of Asgard, but mother was certainly his most feared creature in the nine realms.”

“Hmm, I’d sooner fight all the devils in Hel than be on the offensive to mother.”

“Brother, there is no need to fear one who is dead.” Thor flickered a few times and settled into a transparent shape.

Loki inhaled deeply, held the breath for a moment, and then exhaled as silently as he could. Thor returned to his opaque state on the boulder and began swishing his legs back and forth while staring at the sky above.

“I think,” Thor began with a high, giddy voice, “the reason Asgard still remains under Odin’s rule is the same reason you choose me to speak with rather than listen to the thoughts in your own head.” His face beamed as a small giggle escaped his lips.

“You do not think, you are an illusion,” spat Loki. A wave of his hand and Thor went away. The words, however, did not go away as simply as the illusion did.

Loki sighed, took the illusions place on the boulder, and rubbed his eyes vigorously with both hands. He twisted his appearance into that of The Thunder God, wondering how much longer he would have to wait to be retrieved.

Almost instantly he heard the sound of gravel under boots behind him. Sure enough when he turned around there stood a brawny young man dressed in worn, dirty clothes.

Loki gave his face the brightest grin he could muster, “Hello!”

 

-

 

The work was simple but tiring. The group was much larger than Loki originally thought. They divided into two sections, one above and one below. Loki was put with the men on the ground, in charge of hauling liquidly material to the craftsmen above. Heavy lifting and assisting were no tasks the God of Mischief would be caught doing in the best of moods, but Loki knew Thor would do them with a smile, and so he did.

Thor would be capable of completing such work barely breaking a sweat. But Loki was naturally physically weaker on a good day, currently healing from a nearly lethal wound, and simultaneously casting a constant illusion, all of which caused him to tire quickly. His work and mood suffered as a result.

Of course his fellow workers noticed this and began to chide the high born prince. Loki’s anger bubbled in his stomach but only the return of friendly banter left Thor’s lips. These men were commoners and such opinions from low minds were not worth breaking his cover. He decided to add them to the list of people he planned to decimate.

When his energy neared on empty he tried to convince his fellow cohorts to send him up to work with the others. They managed to grant his wish, but only after the last chunk of stone was attached to the top. When they hoisted him up he noticed they all went home for the day, leaving the Mighty Thor in the company of the artisans. Odin handpicked these men alright, but doubtful for their skill.

The remaining men seemed to not have any need of anyone but themselves. They stood in silence sculpting and molding the liquid into smooth shapes without assistance. Loki spent most of the time observing them, letting his aching muscles settle.

“Hello,” he greeted one of them. The man gave a timid wave and returned to his work. Loki tried again, “You’re the one that came to get me. I both thank you and apologize for having you go out of your way to do so.” The man gave a nod and returned to his work.

Annoyed Loki tried to make him as uncomfortable as he could by staring at him intently as he worked. The man stopped and looked at him. _Success._ “I’m sorry to have bothered you, but I’m trying to figure out what it is exactly you do.”

The man muttered something unsavory but reluctantly described the process in a whispered voice. “We take this liquid stone,” he dipped his hands in the bucket, “and thicken it with our hands,” his wrists glowed an orange color and soon the liquid turned taffy-like in texture. “Now,” he said pulling the pliable substance out of the bucket and onto the hardened stone in front of him, “we mold it into the shape it needs to be.” From the malleable substance he formed what would become an oversized fingernail. “To finish it off I will use my magic to harden the stone. We like to work in silence to better focus on this part. If not done correctly the stone will loosen and melt.” Without another word he set his hands, glowing a faint orange again, on the stone and caressed until the stone’s surface reflected.

Loki waited until he was finished, “So it’s mostly magic,” he said with genuine admiration. “Although it does not look like I will be of much help to you and your men.”

“I doubt you would have much trouble learning, my lord.” The man smiled, but briefly. His face went pale and his eyes sank to his feet.

“What is it?” Loki asked.

The man sighed. “I know who you are. I saw you change into your brother.”

Now it was Loki’s turn to pale. He could kill him, but not without the others seeing. It would be quite hard to explain to Odin why his son decided to end this one particular man’s life. _If only you were a Frost Giant, then there would be an excuse._

“None of the others know, I’ve told no one else.”

“And why not?” Loki asked, in a very Loki-like rasp.

“Is it true you tried to destroy Jotunheim?”

Loki cocked an eyebrow. “How would you feel if I said yes?”

“I'd be upset you did not complete your task. I have no love for the Frost Giants,” he replied with a crooked smile. “There are rumors,” he continued, “that you died in the process, only to be reborn as a wild beast so out of control that you needed to be chained in the dungeons.”

“I am, you could say, ‘cursed’. But as you see before you my features are not that of a destructive beast.” _Not that you could see it anyway under all this blond hair and muscle._ “Tell me more tales of Loki, good citizen.”

“I fear I’ve said too much. Please, I will not tell…” His volume rose, Loki was losing him.

“Allow me to put your mind at ease. Ask me your questions and I shall give you my truths.”  _Or lies you will believe are truths._

The man paused, thinking it over. Curiosity won him over and he began rifling off questions. “There are rumors that you were responsible for the queen’s death.”

“I was nowhere near the queen when she passed” _You might want to take the stairs to the left. “_ Honestly to be accused of such a thing is monstrous.”

 “There are also rumors of your brother. That he has a human lover, and that he will leave Asgard to be with her.” 

 “A partial truth. He does indeed have a Midgardian lover but his heart truly lies in his home realm. That is why I am here in his place. Mortals are such fragile, temporary creatures, and Thor knows this well. He wishes to spend as much time with her as he can. I suspect she also serves as a comfort for him in these dark times.” Loki smiled warmly. “But father does not see it as such. If he discovers our arrangement not only will my hide be skinned, but Thor’s as well. Do you understand why I tell you this?”

The man took hold of his hand, “I will keep your secret, for the sake of the realm.”

Loki took his hand away and discreetly whipped it on the back of his coat. “What is your name, good citizen?”

“Egill, my lord.”

“Ah, Egill,” Loki smiled, “I will remember your name well, dear Egill.”

 

-

 

The stars, much like Loki’s aches and pains, were numerous. Attending one’s own funeral may be bad luck, but viewing it from a discreet location seemed a safe compromise. Despite his effort to get there early he arrived just in time to see a small boat floating in the water. Any warm feelings from Sif’s kind words that morning disintegrated. _You just couldn’t wait to get rid of me, could you? How dare we spend but a few moments to honor our dear Loki?_

He’d transformed one of the fallen Dark Elf bodies, with a fortunate bone structure similar to his own. Up close they weren’t all the same, oddly enough. A few blasts from a gun and an arm torn out of the socket suggested a struggling victim. One final touch, an afterthought really, he turned the skin the grey-blue color of a Jotun and added a few markings. He could not tell if they dressed the corpse in fine funeral clothes or merely wrapped it in a cloak. From his distance all that was visible was a vague lump of green sitting on an old boat.

Something flickered in the corner of his eye. He turned to see a hooded figure draped in an old brown woolen cloak. The figure clasped a simple walking staff in his hand.  It was Odin.

“I thought you were not coming,” Loki said called out in Thor’s voice.

“He would not want us there,” Odin called back, making his way towards him.

“No, I believe you are right.” He said with a genuine laugh. “But if I were Loki looking at this scene now I would be terribly impressed and touched.”   _Though I would not openly admit to it._

“The Loki of old maybe, but not the brute he returned as.”

“You truly believe that?”

 In the distance a flaming arrow shot through the sky and landed in the little boat engulfing it instantly. The flames curled in a fierce rage as the inferno drifted towards the fall in slow agony. Without warning the fireball disappeared, signaling the boat’s descent.

The two gods watched this in silence, Odin giving no answer and Loki left bubbling with more questions.

Loki broke their silence. “If you could speak with him without any repercussions…” _What would you say? Would you tell him how sorry you were? That you did indeed love him but did not show it enough? That given an opportunity to start over you would?_ “..would you want to?”

“There is no opportunity,” Odin barked. “Do not waste my time with foolish questions.”

Loki recalled Odin’s words of the morning, “But who is to say we will not mourn him a third or fourth time?”

“This time we have a body.”

“There are no final words you would say?” _Surely in that wise, cruel head there are words for me. You must give me something. I cannot be right in thinking you cared nothing for me. Please tell me I am more than a stolen relic. You tried to tell me before but I didn’t listen. I am ready to listen now._

 “Any words for Loki have already been said to Loki and I will not repeat them again. It is futile to repeat words said to dead ears.”

Odin made his way back to the castle. Loki lingered in the cold silence alone.


	3. My Echo, My shadow, and Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki and Odin have a disagreement and Loki decides to prove him wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you've seen Captain America The Winter Soldier you'll know where Loki's scepter is. We're going to pretend it's on Asgard.

Odin walked through the hall. Heavy, purposeful footsteps told him his son was walking behind him. He turned and greeted Thor, realizing he was a man greeting a child. He never could get used to the fact his son was now ready to replace him.

Munin circled above them as they conversed. Recently the birds have taken to Thor.  Wherever Thor seemed to be one or both ravens would accompany him. _So they think him an adequate replacement as well._

 _He will do well in my stead_ , Odin thought. But there was still something lingering in the back of his mind that resembled fear and mistrust. _Would you really do well in my stead or do I think this because you are my son and therefore an extension of all my accomplishments?_

“Father,” Thor seemed to be using this title with him more often in the past few days, and always with a slight coldness, like it was a bitter accusation flung from his lips. _‘You’ve made me. You’ve done this. Every one of my actions is on your hands because I would not be here to do them if it weren’t for you.’_

But that would be behaving like a child, which Odin thought was beyond his son. He was reminded of his own recent lapse into childish behaviors, putting his lust for revenge over the lives of his people. _A wise king would not have done that. Thor tried to tell me this, but I did not listen._ Perhaps this was his reasoning for being so cold towards his father?

Frigga was gone, Loki did everything in his power to tear himself away, and now Thor was slipping from him. But Thor had come back, not run off to Jane Foster as he had expected, which meant he was ready to assume his position in Asgard. All he had to give was his kingdom, which was in shambles. Restoring the kingdom meant restoring his relationship with his son.

“Father,” Thor spat again. Perhaps he was not as ready as Odin thought. What was the harm in delaying his rule but a few months after the restoration?

“You are not listening to me,” he said, colder still.

“I’m listening quite well,” Odin replied, finishing the sentence with “my son” to remind him of his place. Thor opened his mouth to argue further but Odin did not allow it. “I hear you clearly, but your words do nothing but belittle perspective and assert your own inferior one.”

“But these halls are empty! The guards…”

“…are doing as I’ve commanded. Restoring Asgard, enforcing order, and protecting only those who require it.”

“All menial tasks. They should be positioned in more important areas like here in the castle, or in the dungeon, or at very least in the vault. The vault is accessible to anyone. This morning I walked right in without obstruction. Did you know the Aether is missing? That is one of the infinity stones, father. Do you know where it is?”

“I’ve sent it away” This was a shock to Thor. He blinked not knowing what to say. _Why where you looking for it anyway?_ “Our numbers have dwindled significantly. There are not enough guards to put everywhere. You were spoiled as a child with a healthy military force.” _Use my actions as an example, watch me and learn._

He gave Thor a moment to try and figure this out. Gears were turning in his son’s head but they ultimately lead to disappointment, and the persuasion began again. _He’s not ready. Perhaps I’ve built him up too greatly in my mind._

“Enough!” Odin barked.

 Thor’s expression was that of sorrow and fear. The expression was a familiar one, but not for the God of Thunder, but he could not place where he had seen it. The lips were tight, wide wet eyes, shoulders pushed back by an invisible force. Frigga’s face came to mind, but he did not remember her ever making such a cowered gesture. Thor recovered almost instantly and tried to argue once again.

 Odin did not let him. “You are inexperienced and I refuse to prove my point to one who knows so little when it comes to ruling and restoring a kingdom. I am the king, and my orders shall stand whether you think them adequate or not.” _You are not ready, not yet._

 

-

 

Loki fumed. He wanted to be alone but Fandral dragged him to the tavern, insisting they needed a bit of fun after a hard day’s work. Odin had them doing degrading tasks. Much like Sif could not ignore his talents he could not ignore their usefulness. Hardened, skilled warriors should not be doing clean up. Were they to start shining shoes and washing Odin’s delicates next? He tried to discuss this, but they reverted back to the sheep he always took them for and casually changed the subject. It seemed their days of treasons and rebellions were behind them.

Here he sat huddled over a stein of mead watching them giggle and chatter. The occasional worried glance his way told him his expression was probably something menacing. They each took their turn in trying to coax the Thunder God out of his thundery mood. They could have succeeded if he was in fact his brother, but Loki did what Loki always did and that was to retreat inside his mind.

 _‘You are an old man and a fool!’_ He had put that phrase in Thor’s head, only he added ‘stubborn’ to that list. Odin only cared about what Odin thought, everyone else did not matter. _You’ve been on the throne too long, old man. You’ve forgotten that even kings can be blind._ Thor was a stubborn blockhead, but on occasion he paused to hear his brother’s voice, even if the words were mostly ignored.

The crackle of crushed porcelain brought his mind back to his current surroundings. Long, pale hands attached to tapered wrists strangled the stein. He panicked momentarily but a lock of blonde hair out of the corner of his eye settled him. Green light ripped from his wrists restoring he illusion.

He scanned the faces of those in the crowd. He locked eyes with Sif, but she smiled warmly and returned to her conversation with the woman beside her. If anyone had seen they were not reacting to it.

A hefty hand slapped him on the back, sending Loki’s heart to his throat. Volstagg beamed down at him. “Your father means well. His heart is in the right place. Do not take it so personally.”

“I’m sure you are right”. _Which means nothing, my heart was in the right place and look where that got me._  

“Now will you show us some cheer? You’re starting to resemble our fallen Frost Giant friend.” Volstagg gave a laugh as hearty as his dinner.

Munin made a beeline for his head, cutting off all laughter. This of course was all Loki’s doing. The real raven was locked away in Thor’s bedchambers for the time being. It was a risky placement, but necessary for a decent night’s sleep.

“I swear that bird has a vendetta against my head.”

Loki stood up, “I will take it back to the castle and inform father of its devilry.” He made a show of apprehending the uncooperative raven, and then bade his former friends farewell.

Loki entered the castle in his true form, practically giftwrapping his presence to Odin. His solitude in the corridors infuriated him. He even went out of his way to lengthen the time it took him to get to Frigga’s room to encourage discovery, but nothing happened.

“It’s irresponsible, is what it is,” he complained to Hugin, whom he found perched up in a tree. Loki tore off a string of Cherry Blossoms and the bird hopped to a higher branch. “Irresponsible and embarrassing; to think I needed that ogre’s approval! You know that is where Thor inherited his senselessness from.”

“Loki,” the raven croaked.

Loki sighed, “You’re only listening to me because you think I have meat, aren’t you? Well I don’t have any right now, so you can just leave.” Unsurprisingly the bird took off.

Loki tossed the stick into a nearby fountain, making a sizable splash. He dipped his fingers into it, wiggling them slightly. The water turned to ice around them while a wry smile appeared on his lips.

 

-

 

Odin’s vault was a place Loki usually avoided. The vault was hid dark memories for him and he wished to leave them down there. Now he made his way down there for the second time that day, but with a much different intent.

No guards guarding the door, just like earlier. This morning he gingerly opened the door as Thor. A swift kick as Loki announced his arrival in the deserted vault. Loud, purposeful scrapes and thuds of his boots sent an audible confirmation that no one would come to take him away. He cherished every _thunk_ of his boots as he descended the stairs.

He paused on the platform, fixing his eyes on his intended target, the Casket of Ancient Winters. Odin practically pried it from his fingers when Thor brought him back from New York. To be truthful he forgot he still had it, but when one falls from the Bifrost and into the tender loving hands of Thanos silly things like weapons tend to be forgotten. Now he intended to have it back.

He descended the final set of stairs he shouting, “I am Loki, son of Laufey, stolen by Odin, defeated by Thor, back from the dead and ready to level Asgard.” It was much louder and angrier than he intended. The echo of his own angry voice shouting back at him sent chills up his spine. It was the voice of someone enraged, hungry for destruction.

 He paused again now on the lower platform, letting the last echoes soften. Then silence. “If there are any guards around, I’m going to take the casket. Now would be the perfect time to come and stop me. Look, here I go!” He swaggered to the pedestal, waved his arms like a composer, and picket up the casket. Weary eyes shot to the wall which held the Destroyer, but it remained still.

“Last chance, boys. Wouldn’t want to be responsible for this blunder, would we?” His mockery answered in silence, as expected.

He was caught off guard by the blue-grey coloring and markings creeping up his fingers and hands. _Am I cursed_? A quick swish of hands dismissed both the casket and the memory.

All that was left to do now was to wait until Odin discovered it missing. It occurred to him this might take a long time, which made him question whether or not taking it was worth it in the first place. Putting it back was not an option simply because he felt it belonged to him. In hindsight stealing something so closely associated with him probably wasn’t such a good idea. _You really didn’t think this one through, did you?_ Loki felt as though he was losing his touch.

A familiar object to his right caught his attention. Menacing gears began to turn in his mind.

 

-

 

With his simple wool cloak draped around him Odin strolled through the streets of Asgard looking for Sif. While Fandral worked alongside Heimdall on the defense shields she and Volstagg volunteered to help restore homes. From what heard they were making fast progress. He arrived to see them impersonating his son with their hammers, much to the enjoyment of the children whose house they repaired.

“Lady Sif, I wish to speak with you.”

“I did not know you, allfather,” she sheepishly put down the hammer and joined him in the street.

“Tell me, do you enjoy this work?” his hand gestured to the dilapidated house behind her.

“These tasks must be done, I do not mind them.” Her smile crinkled a bit.

“Your expression tells me otherwise”

She spoke her words slowly, “I must admit the battlefield is more desirable, but sometimes aiding the realm requires monotonous duties.

 “As I suspected,” Odin declared. “Our army suffered greatly after the invasion, with more than half either injured severely or dead. I will need to replenish their numbers and restore it to its former glory. Your experience and skills would serve Asgard better in this endeavor than your current duties.”

 “I agree, but would not Thor be better?”

“He will aid you, if he wishes,” if he could find him to ask him. Even his trusty raven could retrieve him. “Put together a group of established soldiers of your choosing and start recruitment at once. Start by teaching the novices basic maneuvers and position them…”

Odin did not get to finish his instructions. A group of exasperated guards surrounded them, their weapons pointed at Sif.

“What is this madness?” Odin demanded.

“My lord, the lady Sif has stolen the Chitauri Scepter,” said the guard. His wounds backed up this statement.

Volstagg rushed to her aid. “That is nonsense; I’ve been by her side all day.”

The guard was not satisfied with her alibi, vehemently defending his accusations. He had seen her with his own eyes and felt her blows on his body. Both Volstagg and Sif vehemently denied any involvement in whatever happened to him. The argument grew vicious and not even Odin could quiet them.

They were too preoccupied to notice the airship hovering above their heads. The blue energy barreling into the house behind them was a little harder to miss.

“I suppose you’ll blame me for that as well!” barked Sif.

 

-

 

Sif’s doppelganger cocked an eyebrow at the scene below her. If she wanted to destroy them she could have done it a few minutes prior. She could still do major damage at this moment as well, but this was not the time for damage and destruction.

Loki ran delicate fingers through Sif’s raven tresses, making sure all in attendance got a good look at who wielded the scepter. The guard did what was commanded of him, compile a group of fellow soldiers and lead the way to the real Sif. Odin’s presence was not expected until later, but this only altered the mission slightly.

Premeditated words floated in Loki’s mind. Sif’s doppelganger strengthened her back, elongated her neck, and opened her mouth to address the crowd beneath her.

A rock collided with her head. At least she thought it was a rock. There was too little time to register what the object had been before a set of fists followed it. Judging by the ferocious onslaught of punches the real Lady Sif was not too fond of imitations. A swipe of scepter sent her back momentarily, leaving the Loki room to stumble back and regain posture.

“You dare blacken my name!”

“I plan to blacken more than your name, dear Sif” was what Loki would have said if he had time to say it. Unfortunately he now found himself held high above her head and hurled nose first into the floor of the ship.

Loki had made a terrible mistake. Why did he think getting on Sif’s bad side was a good idea? Sif readied herself for another onslaught but Loki flung his body overboard. This proved also to be a bad idea. He lay broken, battered, and surrounded by enemies, but still in the shape of Sif. A quick smoke spell obscured their vision, creating an easy, albeit overused getaway.

 

-

 

Odin thought briefly of Loki, but then remembered the cold dead body he had seen the day before. He was surprised in how disappointed that realization left him.

The mist dispersed revealing nothing, shocking no one. Sif lowered the ship and ordered a guard to return it to its proper place. He obeyed quite sheepishly.

She quickly turned to Odin, “Allfather, did you witness the direction of the culprit’s escape?”

“No, I did not.”

Sif brought a fist to her chest and pledged, “I will do everything in my power to retrieve the scepter and bring the miscreant to justice”

“No need, Lady Sif,” the familiar voice of Fandral called to her. “I’ve half completed your mission,” he held up the scepter.

“And the offender?” Sif asked, eyeing him with suspicion.

“Put up a good fight, got me with a swift right hook, and took off,” Fandral replied, flipping the scepter to emphasize his words.

Sif looked at Odin. Odin looked back at Sif. Then they both looked back at Fandral. Fandral gave a heavy sigh and fired a blue energy blast. Odin swore it hit her leg, but he saw no wound as she chased the imposter in retaliation. Volstagg followed in suit and soon all three vanished from Odin’s sight.

 

-

 

Loki perched on a rooftop and watched the scene play out just as he hoped. Sif and Volstagg were out of his hair, while only Odin and a few guards remained. Odin barked orders, dividing them into two groups. One group to the aid of Sif and Volstagg, the other he took with him back to the castle, most likely off to get his precious staff, Gungnir.

Usually Loki’s plans where well thought out with backup plans ensuring an inevitable outcome. This did not describe his current situation. His death, it seemed, had made him far too impulsive and sloppy for his own liking. Loki nursed his shoulder with his free hand and looked around to get his bearings. A spark of inspiration hit him and set out in a direction, using the rooftops and archways to make his path.

He checked in on the illusion a few times, making sure things were going well. A few times they came close to catching it, little skirmished ensued which always ended with the Fandral getting away. When the real Fandral turned up to assist his friends Loki turned the illusion to that of Odin. He made a mockery of the king by making the illusion jump about like a court jester spewing vulgar phrases at anyone who got close enough to it. Loki did not know where the real Odin was for certain, but he assumed the king was somewhere close to the castle. He made a mental note to find him once the scepter was taken care of.

Loki arrived at his destination unnoticed. He knocked on the door, far too simple of décor for his taste, and waited. What came next depended on that door opening.

Loki gave a genuine outburst of laughter as Egill opened the door. “Hello, my new friend! I am in dire need of your help.”

Egill’s face showed he was not too keen on being considered a friend of Loki’s, but he allowed him to enter his home. Loki made show of exhaustion while leaning on walls and breathing heavily while discreetly surveying the interior. Much to Loki’s delight they seemed to be alone.

“What is going on outside, my lord? There is chaos in the streets. I fear for my wife and child.”

“Some lunatic got it in his mind to take off with a very important scepter.” He held it up to the man. “This scepter to be precise. The man is a master of illusion, like me, and they do not know the one he carries is a fake.” Loki winced at an imaginary pain. Egill offered him some water, too which Loki politely refused. “I need to get my brother’s assistance. I must send message to him to get him to come home. But I cannot do it carrying this around as it prevents me from contacting him. You must keep it here with you for a little while. Can you do this?”

“I…yes…but…I…”       

“Good, good. Now listen.” He brought the man closer to his face, inches from his eyes. “When night falls you will bring this to the castle grounds. You will see Thor and you will give it to Thor. Only Thor, no one else. He will be waiting for you where you met me yesterday. You remember, yes?” The man nodded, accidently bumping his forehead against Loki’s briefly. Loki smiled warmly, letting his eyes tear up slightly for effect. “You do us a great service. I shall repay you tenfold, my friend.”

Loki dropped the Chitauri scepter in the man’s hands. Egill looked like a child being told to do something he was never taught. Loki placed a hand on his shoulder and spewed vague words of encouragement and more promises he did not intend to keep before hurrying out the door.

 He sent his mind to the back to the illusion to see the bruised face of Odin coughing up blood with a smile as Volstagg sent a bloody boot into its skull. Illusions have no weight or mass, but a few quick blood splatters at the right time can trick the mind into thinking contact had occurred. To Loki’s knowledge only one other sorcerer could successfully pull that off, and that other person had been Frigga.

The false king managed to roll away, sending the warriors on another game of cat and mouse. Everything seemed to be going his way for once. Now all he had to do was find the real Odin.

 

-

 

In hindsight making friends with Loki was one of the worst decisions Egill had ever made. It was true what he said about disliking the Frost Giants, but all motivation to make nice had been in trying to save his own life. He knew many people died at the hand of Loki and he did not want to be another name on that list.

His wife arrived home from the market with their son only moments after Loki left, both thankfully unharmed. Now he could hear his toddler running about just outside the bedroom door. Various renditions of ‘Your Father is sleeping. He will play when he wakes’ came from his wife.

He waited in agony for the sky to turn dark. “I’ve been called to the castle,” he explained to his wife when he could wait no longer. She expressed concern over his safety, but he told her not to worry and that he would be alright. He kissed her goodbye and ruffled his son’s hair and set out with reluctance.

The staff, now concealed in an old fraying blanket hung heavily in his hand as he made the long trek to the castle. Instead of doing what Loki wanted of him he decided to go to the palace and confess to Odin. The king would grant him protection. This was the right thing to do.

He expected to be accosted by soldiers at the palace gates, but the area seemed deserted. Most likely trying to apprehend the culprit, he thought. He followed the sound of cawing ravens, which lead him directly to the Allfather.

He told Odin everything, about Loki, about his fears for his family, and about the truth behind the chaos still occurring in the street. Throughout his tale the king neither said a word nor showed any change in expression.

“May I ask but one question, Egill?” Egill nodded. “Why must all my friends betray me?”

There was a flash of green light before Egill blacked out.

 

-

 

Fandral just finished telling him the thief had disappeared under mysterious circumstances when Thor came barreling into the throne room with an unconscious man over his shoulder. Behind him a battle worn Sif carried the Chitauri Scepter. Thor threw the man down on the floor, allowing Odin to see a wide trail of blood down his neck and shirt front.

“Thor, I’ve spent the better part of a day trying to find you. Where have you been?”

“This fiend,” Thor began, “Took on the guise of my friends to terrorize Asgard. He not only crippled our already battered realm but did so in a way in which sullies the reputation of our loyal warriors.”

The man began to stir, moaning and coughing up blood. He pushed his own fingers into his bloody mouth. Tears began to streak down his horror stricken face.

“For some unknown reason,” Thor continued, “he tore his tongue from his own throat. His reasons for this self-mutilation are as lost as his reasons for the senseless chaos. I fear the only method of dealing with such an insect is to put him to death.”

The man began to plead in guttural sounds, but the exact words where lost to Odin. Thor raised his hammer in threatening fashion and barked an order for silence.

“Enough,” Odin ordered. “Guards, take the criminal to his new home in the dungeons.”

Thor lowered his hammer in disbelief as the guards did as they were commanded. “But father…”

“Enough” Odin repeated. “We’ve seen too much chaos this day. If there is to be further bloodshed we shall put it off until tomorrow.”

Thor looked utterly defeated. Odin was not sure of what his son was up to all day, but it was plain to see he was physically and emotionally exhausted. His hunched posture supplemented the uncharacteristic paleness of his complexion.

Red rimmed watery eyes radiated fury directed solely at Odin. “This would have never happened if you had listened to my earlier advice.” The words dripped with unnatural venom.

Odin swallowed angry pride and let his son leave in silence. No one in attendance seemed to question the truthfulness of Thor’s statement. 


	4. Collapsing Like Houses of Cards

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki has a reluctant conversation with an illusion of Frigga and decides his next move.

The shame in Odin’s face the previous night was delicious, but even that image could encourage Loki to move from the floor on which he now lay. The excursions from yesterday's diabolical activities wreaked havoc on his body. Large amounts magic in such short periods of time could have leveled a sorcerer of lesser quality.

A dull pain sang in his lower back and he heard every note. The tips of his boots told him his legs were still there, though he could not really feel them.  He knew he felt both nauseous and dizzy but was unsure which was causing what or whether they were independent symptoms. A reoccurring neck pain courtesy of being forced to sleep on the floor seemed to worsen all of these atrocities.

A nice long soak, followed by a massage from some pretty young thing would lull his muscles into sweet sedation, but for obvious reasons those were unavailable to him. He caught himself wishing for the bed in his cell.

His skin took on an eerie blue hue, as it often did in the after effect of such events. For years he just assumed this was his body's way of reacting to strong spells. Now he knew the blue hue did not speak for the physical condition of his body, but the depletion of magical energy holding up the strong illusion of pink flesh and Asgardian features.

From his position on the floor he could see Frigga’s writing desk. He tried to avoid looking at it, but at this angle and his current unwillingness to move it was constantly out of the corner of his eye.

She would sit there after their lessons reading one of her books while little Loki snoozed peacefully in the chair opposite. The desk was bare and this bothered Loki. His memories told him that desk should have books on it.

He turned his right hand, palm down, in the direction of the desk and wiggled his fingers. A stack of well-worn books fizzed into existence. For some reason he was unsatisfied with them, another wiggle of fingers dismissed them. He closed his eyes and tried to figure out why they were so displeasing.

Frigga’s face popped into his head, and at once he understood. It was not the books he missed, it was Frigga’s ownership of them. He knew most of Frigga's books stolen from Odin's ancient collection. Odin gave her several but Frigga was unsatisfied and helped herself to her husband's collection from time to time without him knowing. Or perhaps he did know but was too scared to do anything about it.

The sound of a cracking book spine followed by turning of pages caught his ear. He opened one eye slowly to see exactly what he feared he would.

“Hello darling,” Frigga greeted him while delicately turning over yellowing pages.

“Don’t you ‘hello darling’ me,” he grumbled. “You’re not real, and neither is that book.”

“Of course I’m not real. You overdid it yesterday, my love. Now you have trouble controlling your magic. You must…”

“Let it settle. I know.” After several ungraceful attempts he managed to pull himself up into a standing position. His attention turned back to Frigga, who was still happily turning pages like it was her job. “Do you intend to read that or use it to make copious noise?”

“I’m shocked you can hear it over the crackling of your joints,” she grimaced and mumbled, “You sound like your father.”

“He’s not my father,” he said evenly. She opened her mouth to speak words from his memory, but he held up a hand silencing her, “No, you’ve said that line once; I will not allow it again.”

She returned to her book, turning the pages faster and making more noise than before. As Loki made his way to the chair he pretended not to see her raised brows and set jaw. He slumped down into the chair and began to massage his neck. As he settled so did she. She stopped fussing with the pages and began gliding her eyes over the written words.

 “I’m concerned about that neck of yours,” she said not looking up. He had begun rolling it back and forth to try and loosen it up. He assured her it was fine, right before making a sickening crack. She pretended not to hear, but her satisfactory thin smile told him she did.

“Did you really have to torture that poor man?” She was referring to the man Egill, whom Loki framed for his chaos yesterday. “You’ve torn up their family Loki. That child will not have his father.”

“Sounds like you disapprove.”

“No one made out in that conundrum, not even you. You’ve still got bits of blood under your finger nails.”

“It had to be done,” he said, picking the mess out of his nails. “Besides the bastard tried to betray me.”

“But you betrayed him.”

“It’s not really betrayal if it’s planned out from the start.” He flashed a proud smile.

She threw back a disapproving look. “Egill’s role was improvised, which was why you didn’t think his involvement all the way through.”

 “How so? Please enlighten me.”

“For one you just assumed Odin would kill him, which as of now has not happened. Not only is he alive, but he still has his hands. Your secret is safe until someone gives him something to write with.”

“I admit it was hasty,” he mumbled, as he continued with his nails. The gore underneath proved difficult to scrape out completely. He deserted his mission out of frustration and clasped both hands on the arms of the chair.  “I am having difficulties conceiving adequate schemes. My silver tongue has indeed turned to lead.”

“It is intentional,” she said plainly.

“Oh mother,” he laughed, “I assure you it is not intentional. How do you even come to that conclusion?”

“I am not your mo...”

“No, I know. Do not say that, I know.” She shut her mouth, and she returned to her book. He was having trouble remembering this figure before him was not real. Whatever she had to say came from him. He could easily dismiss her, but he was curious as to what his subconscious had to say.

At his silent instruction she lifted her head to speak. “You have no real desire to burn Asgard to the ground, or to even rule it. You want everything to go back to the way it was before you discovered your true lineage.” She cocked her head slightly. “Or maybe you don’t. You’re remembering those days quite fondly at the moment.” Frigga sighed and shifted a bit in the chair. “You’re not sure what you want; you’re a bit all over the place. You crave love and acceptance, and praise, but you are afraid usurping the throne will not bring those to you. It most certainly won’t bring you any love from your brother or Odin, assuming he survives. You don’t know what to do and it is driving you mad.”

After a brief pause she returned to her book. Loki turned his attention to the floor, mulling her words over. He could not settle on if they were absurd or absolutely true.

“What are you reading?” he asked her.

“You know very well I am not actually reading,” she said, pressing the page between thumb and forefinger.

He watched as her manicured hands skim the words on the page. After a while she brought them together above the book and wrung them, gripping the flesh tightly over her knuckles and accentuating her little blue veins. He watched as the muscles bugled and wrinkles creased, and how the light reflected off the curves of her finger nails. Then she made a steeple with her fingers, turned them inward, and crackled her knuckles. Finally, she pressed her palms flat down on either side the book briefly before curling the fingers up into fists.

"I used to lock my eyes to those hands, to try to capture their finesse and skill. All I do is mimic them.”

"Nonsense, Loki," she spoke in a hushed tone. "You far exceeded my expectations in everything you did."

 

"Dear Odin would disagree," Loki argued. He swallowed hard out of habit and waited for Frigga's rebuttal but she just sighed and shook her head in a disapproving manor. 

Why should he be so concerned about Odin's opinions of him now? The fool failed to protect his loving wife in a time of crisis. Always putting his precious Asgard ahead of the people he claimed to love. No doubt the true son of Odin followed in his father's footsteps, leaving his mother to defend herself. As a true warrior she could hold her own, but even warriors of the highest quality can be bested.

Frigga wondered over to the birdcage, her back was to Loki. Her words were cheerful and frivolous but Loki ignored them in favor of his much darker thoughts. In their brief time together Thor refused to elaborate on the events leading up to her death, revealing only that it had been by a lethal stab wound.

“Did you suffer?” he asked her, but all she did was give him a sympathetic smile. A red stain welled up under her breastplate, but her face remained calm. Another red blotch spread across her stomach, slowly creeping in a horizontal line. When it finally reached her side several smaller wounds popped open simultaneously on her lower back and upper abdomen. The blood flowed heavily, saturating the gold fabric. Loki followed the flow of blood to her knees, and then pulled his gaze to her face where he could see purple welts forming under her eyes. She gave no indication she even knew what was happening to her body.

“Are you angry with me?” he asked, voice cracking.

She coughed, spewing blood down the front of her. She wiped her mouth clean with the back of her hand. “Should I be?” Her voice was simple and sweet, like the scarlet spittle on her hand was the most natural thing in the world.

 “Yes, because I sent you your executioner!” he shouted the words like a dragon unleashing an inferno.

This sent her into a coughing fit, the blood pouring freely down her mouth and throat. Yet her expression was that of happiness and joy, flashing him a smile with red rimmed teeth.

“I am responsible for this!” he screamed rising from the chair to plant both hands on her shoulders. “I am a monster, a vile creature with a heart colder than the blackest pits of Jotunheim! You never saw me for what I really was! You sent me gifts and books and comforts for my prison cell instead of deserting me! You whisper encouragements and embrace me in love. I've hurt you, I am evil! You should not love me. I'm toxic. I burn everything in my path, good and bad. I...I..."

A familiar chill ran down his spine and he looked to see blue-grey claws clutching her shoulders. He collapsed to his knees, wrapping himself in her red and gold bloodstained skirts. He didn’t want Frigga to see what he really looked like.

She embraced him, though he tried to pull away, eventually yielding to her strong hold. In the crook of her neck he whimpered incoherently. Frigga rubbed his shivering arms, stroked his dark curls, and gave the occasional kiss to his blue forehead. Loki had not been held like this since he was a child, and the familiar comfort settled him. His incoherent sobbing slowly turned into apologies. Pale pink skin replaced blue soon after.

"Talk to me." He looked up to see her face pristine and pretty, as were her clothes. "Am I really a monster?"

"Only because you feel you must be."

"That's not what I want to hear." he chuckled.

"No," she wiped his eyes with the pads of her fingers gently. "But I would not say anything else."

"Dear mother, you've not learnt anything from my little outburst." He let her go and stood up.

She remained on the floor. “Loki, I am not your mother. Your mother is dead.”

“No, no you are not,” he said, extending a hand. “But I always did have a talent for shaping convincing illusions.”

“You did learn from the best, darling.” She accepted his hand and pulled herself up.

Loki let her straighten out his jacket, adjust his collar, and tuck a loose black lock behind an ear. She looked him once over and gave an approving smile. She bit her lip, approval turning into worry. “Are you so sure this is the right answer?”

“Yes,” he stared down at her. “What you’ve just said clicked everything into place.”

“Loki…”

“No, it needs to be done. I’ve been afraid to kill Odin. I need to kill Odin.”

“Loki that is not what I meant.”

“I’ve been delaying my actions out of fear. I should just go and do it and deal with the actual consequences instead of worrying about what they might be.”

“You’re going to regret it, Loki.”

“I will not, mother.”

“You are emotionally and physically exhausted. Do you think it wise to act now?”

He ignored her question, opting instead to retrieve the dagger he had thrown at Munin a few days prior. It pulled out of the wall with ease and he hid it in his coat. Frigga watched him with a worried expression. Loki reminded himself that this was not Frigga, but her recoil to his actions turned his stomach.

“Do you really think you can?” she asked in a whisper.

“Oh, I don’t know. He is getting up there in age.” He gave her a cheeky smile as he made his way to the door. “Besides, you give me an idea.” He kissed her on the cheek as he passed her.

“He’ll see right through it,” she warned.

“Then he’ll kill me and I’ll soon be talking to the real you.” He gave her a wink and slammed the door behind him.


	5. And Landing on Splinters and Glass

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Continuing immediately after the previous chapter, Loki seeks out Odin to end his life.

Odin had not been in Frigga’s private quarters since her death. Why Munin insisted he come here he could not figure out. The raven was currently perched on the fountain trying to drink the stale water.  It was behaving strangely only a few minutes before, screeching and squawking and wouldn’t leave him alone. After it realized Odin was not listening to it the raven took to charging at king. When he made an attempt to listen to it he could not understand the bird, as he usually could. The only thing Odin could do was follow the frantic bird.

Beyond the fountain a guard stood at attention waiting for a command. Odin placed a hand on the pillar and took view of the golden structures shining red with the setting sun. Trees cast shadows and waterways glimmered with light. From this point of view Asgard was whole and undamaged. A breeze caught his hair and garments, a quality of this place his late queen favored most of all. The memory of her body lying only a few steps down from the tiles he now stood lingered in the back of his mind.

A door slammed shut in the distance, followed by the sound a short scuffle. He would be alarmed if not for the flutter of wings and screech of distress from the raven now flying over his head. The poor thing was having a crisis.

Odin turned to give the guard a command but the sight of gold and blue silk and strawberry blonde hair silenced his words.

"Hello, my love." Frigga greeted him warmly. She sat on the edge of the fountain with her legs crossed. One hand played idly with a floating rose petal, the other was tucked behind her back.

"Have you tired of haunting my dreams?" Odin asked, descending the stairs to meet her. "Must you bother me in my waking hours as well?"

She raised her eyebrows but then morphed her face into a sly expression. "Possibly."

"What have you there tucked behind your back?"

Her eyes dropped to her shoulder then trailed down the rest of her arm. Like a child presenting a gift she held up a dagger and smiled sweetly.

"Come to take me with you?"

"Possibly." She repeated.

A moment of silence passed between the two. The wind picked up again outside and Frigga turned her attention to it. Then, as though fully realizing the space she inhabited, began examining the room. Eyes traced the curvature of the architecture, then down the columns to the steps and finally the large slabs of tile of the floor. The sly smile turned sour when she got to the grout. In the aftermath of the queen's death her blood was hastily mopped up by one of her handmaidens, but looking closely Odin could still see shades of red embedded between tiles.

"We are not in a hurry to commit dastardly deeds?"

Her head snapped to his attention. Eyes blinked back tears in skillful, practiced manor. The smile returned. "No," she strained. Another attempt was made, "One perk of being among the dead is the lack of previous engagements."

"Then perhaps we shall walk and talk for a while." He extended a hand and she took it.

"You trust me to be on this side? I may just get it in my mind to kill you and you will not see me coming." A tinkle of laughter.

"Then death will be painless and swift."

"An undignified death for my warrior."

"Then it is very well that I am a king and not a warrior."

She tried to take him by the arm, but he denied her that pleasure. A simple hand holding was as much physical contact as he wanted with this thing. Her heels clicked heavily on the tiles below sending echoes off the walls back at them. She greeted the guards warmly when they passed, her presence stopping them coldly mid step. Every single one of them sent fearful, questioning glances at Odin, but their king paid them no mind. He felt he had full control over the situation and was not in need of their assistance.

The conversation was unremarkable small talk with such topics such as the weather and what the kitchens had served for breakfast and lunch. Then they moved onto more adventurous topics like the restoration of Asgard and the chaotic events of the day before. His companion seemed to hang on every word. Odin did not mind the dull conversation as he had a destination in mind and he continued to lead the creature in his company to it.

"The throne," Frigga sighed. She let go of his hand and climbed the first few steps. She stopped midway and cradled the dagger delicately in both hands. She made sure he did not forget the dagger.

“I never did care for the décor of it,” she commented. “My throne would be far more ornate and delicate, something which would take a long time to construct and form.” While she spoke she ascended the stairs, making sure he heard every step her foot touched. “Something that shows you the person sitting upon it was worth all those hours of labor.”

“Then it is a good thing that throne is mine and not yours,” Odin called up at her.

He caught a sliver of a glare over her shoulder as she made her last step. She turned to look down at him, slowly lowering herself on the throne, savoring every minute movement of her body and clothing on the gold.

Her head tilted back and she looked down at him. “How do I look, Odin?” Her tone reeked with amusement. Odin allowed the moment, but stared coldly back up at her. "You do not like me on your throne. I can see it in your face."

"I do not," he said with venom. "Perhaps in the past, but at this time I do not."

"Don't lie. The only person appropriate for your throne is you. All others fail in comparison. But even you will die and decay and Asgard will go on without you."

“Then you will have to show me your trick on returning to the land of the living.” She liked this answer, giving her first real laugh. “However, I believe you will keep that secret from me, leaving Thor to collect the keys of the kingdom.”

"Do you really think this is the best place for Thor?”

 "Thor is not unworthy. He is a child at times and quick of temper more often than not, but he is learning.”

“That’s not what I asked,” she said shaking her head. “I’m asking if naming him king is…”

"And what makes you so certain you would do better?” She opened her mouth to speak but he did not let her. "You who threw a galactic tantrum because I would not give it to you?" She laughed nervously and tried to speak again. "You are so quick to demonize others when you can't even take responsibility for your own wickedness, Loki!"

 The figure on the throne blinked at him, then hung her head in defeat.

"Let me ask again," Loki said changing his features to his original form "How do I look?"

“Alive,” barked Odin.

“Just barely, I assure you.” Sunken eyes and hallowed cheeks gave truth to this statement. “The rumors of my heroics are all true. Such a shame because I would have paid good money to see the Incredible Hulk fling that Dark Elf monstrosity around like a ragdoll.”

“Enough, Loki.”

“I thought I was doing quite well. What gave me away? It was the killing bit, wasn't it? Honestly I haven’t committed to killing you yet. You see, I’m still debating that with myself. In hindsight killing you would not be something dear old Frigga..."

"Enough!" Odin repeated. "You are rambling. I've caught you in a lie and now you are trying to save face. You forget I know you just as well as you know me."

"Oh I’m shocked you pulled your attention away from Thor long enough to…”

“Enough, Loki. I do not have it in me to argue at this time. And from the sight of you neither do you.”

“Oh, how wrong you are. I’m just bubbling with rage,” Loki spat down at him.

“Very well,” Odin sighed. “Let’s have it. Which atrocity will you throw at me now?”

“Are you giving me a stage? How very thoughtful.”

“That is what you always wanted, a stage with my exclusive audience. Only me to watch you. You have free reign to perform.”

Loki shook his head, “…no that’s not…”

“Then what do you want? What antics do you have for me?”

Loki looked offended. “They weren’t antics!”

“Then you wish to be chastised? I thought your trip to the dungeons covered that. Do you wish to be drawn and quartered as well? Or is flaying more to your liking?”

“No, that’s not it. Will you stop that!”

“Shall I exile you to Muspelheim? I bet Laufey would enjoy that one. A realm of fire must be torture on a Frost Giant.”

“Do not speak of my parentage!” Loki bellowed. Odin savored the physical pain on his face.

“Why not? Is that not the root of all our discrepancies? I saved your life and brought you here to thrive and care for you as my own.”

“No it is not! You only wanted to use me! I’m not a child, I am a tool. A weapon to use to your own advantage. I’m not a…”

“You do not feed, clothe, and love a weapon, Loki,” Odin shouted. “You were not locked in a vault, not kept prisoner. You were my son!”

“Ah, ‘were’, not ‘are’. A slip of tongue reveals your true feelings. Why does Thor get a chance at redemption and acceptance? Am I not his equal?”

“You are not!”

“Ah, now we’re getting somewhere. Tell me more, ‘father’. Why do I not have a shot at redemption?”

“Because you have been given far too many!” Odin seemed to double in size with rage. He ascended the stairs with great haste and lifted Loki off the throne by his lapels. “How many do you think you get?”

“You threw me in the prisons!” Loki’s tried to seem stable but his squeaking voice betrayed him. His second attempt at strength was even shriller. “How could I redeem there?”

“You are not sorry for your crimes. When you were brought back here all you did was cry about your ‘birthright’ for a throne. You care so little for the people around you. How dare you believe yourself a better king over Thor!”

“You…you…” Loki’s mind raced. What had he said to Frigga? _‘The lives you took’ ‘A mere handful to that of Odin.’_ What had he said to her in their final meeting? Loki’s mind did not race fast enough to save him.

“I am not your excuse to act like a spoiled child!” Odin bellowed.

 _Yes you are_ , Loki thought. Tears streamed down his face as he shook his head. He wanted to scream and hurl all the hatred inside him at Odin but all he could say was “You never loved me!” He sobbed at how inadequate and childish those words were.

“How could I show you more love when you did not give me any in return? I saved you, I brought you here! I risked my kingdom and reputation just to take you in and you never showed one ounce of gratitude! And when you found out who you were you loved me less! After everything I’ve done for you, you still choose to cling to Frigga over me!”

“I killed Laufey for you,” Loki pleaded.

“You killed Laufey to better your own image! You wanted a throne you could not have simply to impress everyone around you. That is why you threw away your rightful title of Jotunheim. Why rule a cold, defeated place when everyone could see you sitting on the gilded throne of Asgard?”

“I did it…” Loki sobbed, “…to show you…I picked you…”

“You are a selfish, arrogant child. You are only capable of loving one person and that is Loki.”

“That’s not true.” The words were whispers, unheard over Odin’s echoes. He loved Frigga. He loved Thor. He loved…

Odin pulled him closer to his face. “Loki cares only for Loki. You want everyone to feel as miserably as you do. No one can be happy so long as Loki snivels!”

 Odin’s words struck Loki hard, opening every emotional wound inside him. Anger, rage, and misery coursed through his blood stream in an electric current looking for an outlet.

Odin gagged and reached for his own throat. His fingers clasped over the wound but the red blood oozed between his fingers. Odin’s face paled quickly, but radiated anger and spite. He was unable to speak but Loki knew exactly what he wanted to say.

Though Loki was confused in those first few moments the king’s blood on his dagger allowed him to piece the horrific events together.  He reached out to his father to try to stop the blood, but Odin shoved him back. The force of the action propelled the king backward, landing in an ungraceful lump at the foot of the stairs.

Loki stared at the lump, waiting for it to get up and assault him. All it did was wheeze and grunt. When it occurred to Loki Odin was still alive he rushed to him. He cradled Odin’s head against his chest and applied pressure to the wound. He remembered Frigga’s bloodstained dress and wondered if this scene was really happening. The pungent scent of copper and sticky wetness on his fingers told him otherwise.

Odin lifted a limp hand and prodded at Loki’s shoulder, making grunts of frustration when he could not successfully push him away. Loki brought his father’s head to his lips and whispered frantic prayers into Odin’s forehead.

“Don’t die, please don’t die. You can hate me forever, do all those terrible things to me, set my blue head on a spike if it pleases you, just so long as you live to do so. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…” Loki broke into a shrill mantra, rocking back and forth.

Over his distress he did not feel Odin go limp in his arms, nor did he hear the last hissing breath pass his lips. The old god hung dead in his arms while he continued his futile attempt to plead life from it.


End file.
